


New

by WroughtBetwixt



Series: JohnWard Prompts [20]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fights, Jealousy, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-03
Updated: 2014-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-19 17:02:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2396015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WroughtBetwixt/pseuds/WroughtBetwixt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grant's jealous. John has an idea how to fix that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New

“I see you got a new one.”  
  
John glanced up from his book. Grant stood in the doorway of the plane’s cockpit, arms crossed and eyes blazing. Eyeing the bruise on Grant’s cheek, John shut the book and stood, moving in to Grant’s space and checking the damage. “I see you two said hello.”  
  
Grant stiffened, but didn’t move away. “What game is he playing, sir?”  
  
“No game,” John replied. He raised an eyebrow as Grant relaxed at the reply to the HYDRA countersign. “Did you really think I’d replace you?”  
  
The younger man looked away. Oh, that just wouldn’t do.   
  
“John, wh-what...” Grant let out a tiny, tortured sound when John sank down to his knees, humming as he casually undid Grant’s pants. “What if...”  
  
“Everyone’s asleep. We’ll be just fine,” John purred, kissing up along Grant’s inner thigh. “If you stay quiet.”  
  
Grant bit his lip, holding back a moan as John’s mouth drew him in. The pace was slow, agonizing, and he couldn’t help but give a low whine of desperation. John swirled his tongue along Grant’s length, and Grant bucked his hips without thinking; when John didn’t react, Grant licked his lips and gave a second, tentative thrust. John merely hummed, and Grant damn near fell apart that moment. Winding his fingers through John’s hair, Grant set his own pace, eyes fluttering shut as John enthusiastically complied. A lick here, a twist of the tongue there... Little whimpers rose and died in Grant’s throat as his grip tightened, blessed, delicious heat curling in his abdomen; it was just the barest hint of teeth that did him in, and Grant’s fingernails clawed at John’s nape as the orgasm ripped through his body.  
  
Every disquiet thought, every little doubt, blanked out from Grant’s mind. All he could do was stand there, shaking, his heart hammering in his ears as John rose from his knees and prettied Grant back up. The first thought that came back to him was that he was bleeding; he’d bitten his lip so hard that it had split. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, and the only person that mattered was the man in front of him, pinning Grant to the cockpit door. John kissed him, tongue slipping past Grant’s lips; he could taste himself, mixed with his own blood, and his knees wobbled when John gently sucked on the wound.  
  
“I’m yours,” John breathed, pulling away just enough to speak. “And no one will ever replace you.”


End file.
